So it’s been a really long time since I’ve written. Definitely not because life has been uneventful. Mostly because it’s been so eventful that sitting down and putting fingers to keyboard has begun to beg the question, “Where on earth do I start?” So I’ll start with what’s on my mind today, because I feel like writing something, even if it’s not something epic or terribly self-revealing.
I’m feeling kind of melancholy today, to be honest. Not sure what to chalk it up to. Most people would say it’s the rain; the ones who know me best would say it’s not. Rain energizes me like none other.
I think I feel a little uninspired lately. Which is a tough place for a person such as I, who thrives on that feeling that something is stirring my soul and pushing me forward toward creativity and beauty and things of eternal weight. Maybe that’s what’s nagging at me.
I miss summer. I miss the days when life moved slow enough to sit and contemplate everything what is or isn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I love what I do, I love my kids, I love my coworkers. But I go at a dead run 8-10 hours a day, and come home mentally and physically exhausted and already busily planning for the next day. And I am craving open space right now. I want to sit in a room with an open window and a landscape view, a room that contains nothing but me and a grand piano and a few sheets of paper.
Some days, the American dream weighs on me, to be honest. Some days, I want to live in a shack in Africa. I want to go back to Brazil and remember what it felt like to ignore the clock for the bulk of things; live in a tiny house and eat rice and beans and live life with the people around me and watch kids play in the street. To forget the things we want, embrace the things we need, and dwell in the things we love.
I long for simplicity in its purest form. And I’m not entirely sure how to get there from here.
Trusting in faith.